


Under His Skin

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Sex, Come Shot, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Spitroasting, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, needlessly filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro had a feeling there was more to what the druids did to him than just the arm but he never dreamed to what extent he had actually been...altered. Unfortunately the truth comes out while he's locked in a cell with Lance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seriousness of the summary aside, this is just tentacle porn. Tentacle Shiro and unsuspecting Lance. Terrible pervy things. Not a heavy story in the least.

Lance was having a bad day. It hadn’t started out bad at all; Allura had suggested they stop on a planet on the outskirts of some galaxy that was, technically, neutral territory. It was a place the Galra had only passing interest in, placing a few automated sentries at the landing ports, and mostly left to it’s own devices because there wasn’t anything particularly of use. It was small, mostly swamp, with no valuable resources and no native population, just people who'd decided to colonize it.

What it did have was an open air market the size of, according to Allura, ‘Some of your Earth cities combined’ where people came to do all manner of business. She’d insisted that if they kept a low profile and covered up their freakish ears they’d have no trouble taking one of the castle’s pod ships, landing normally, and going about their business.

Shiro and Keith had been wary about leaving the lions but giant cat robots weren’t exactly what anyone would dare to call low profile so in the end they’d agreed.

The planet was exactly how Allura had described it. Hot, muggy, smelling vaguely of sulfur, foul smelling mud that was so thick Lance was half convinced he was going to lose his boots to it. The trudge from the port to raised wooden platform that served as the sidewalk was miserable enough that Lance was seriously regretting his choices.

Things picked up once they were in the market though. Allura and Coran went off in search of supplies for the castle and it’s maintenance, Pidge spotted something shiny and melted into the crowd with little more thana distracted wave in their direction, and Hunk practically dropped to his knees and said a prayer when he found the rows and rows of outdoor stalls full of all sorts of weird looking alien foods.

Which left Lance with Shiro and Keith in a bar, watching the older Paladin hustle some guys with pig faces for their money at some card and tile game Lance could barely follow. Apparently Shiro had learned to play while being held prisoner by the Galra (“Did you think I did nothing but fight and plot my escape for a year?” Shiro asked teasingly and. Well. Yes, that was kind of what Lance had figured Shiro had done.) and had a champion poker face.

Keith sat at the end of the table, arms crossed over his chest, looking like he'd never had fun a day in his life. Lance didn't find such a thing hard to believe at all.  

This was where Lance’s day started to go bad. At first everything was fine; he and Shiro were having a good time, the pig guys seemed to like them and no one had told Lance to shut up or talk less once (though Keith kept muttering about a headache coming on), the pig guys ordered drinks and food and were happy to share. The stuff wasn’t goo which made it fantastic in Lance’s opinion and, as it turned out, everything actually tasted pretty good. Or maybe Lance’s sense of taste was all messed up.

The food wasn’t the problem (at least it hadn’t started out as the problem) but the waitress was. She was petite and willowy with a sweet rabbit-like face and, Lance noticed while totally not staring at Shiro, the older paladin seemed to perk up in interest at the sight of her. She must have noticed as well because somewhere around Lance’s third refill of whatever the fruity orange colored drink he was sipping came around she’d taken up residence at Shiro’s elbow, smiling and laughing.

His mood became decidedly sour after that. Not that he cared who Shiro flirted with or anything, because he didn’t. It wasn’t like he was put out because Shiro had been teaching him the game, leaning against his shoulder and reaching over him to point at his tiles and move his cards around but stopped when the waitress was there. It also wasn’t because he had liked the closeness or anything like that.

It was just that Shiro started getting distracted, taking longer between turns and looking confused all of a sudden. It was ruining his fun; but his fourth drink he felt a headache coming on and his teeth were grinding together as he watched Shiro flirt with the waitress. Plus it seemed someone had turned up the heat because he was starting to sweat and, when he glanced towards Keith he saw the other pilot was looking foggy eyed and his hair was slick with sweat and clinging to face. 

Shiro however looked fine. 

And here did Shiro get off being so...charming and flirty anyway? Anytime Lance tried to pick up a cute alien he got scolded for it, usually by Shiro, or mocked as he struck out, usually by Keith, but Shiro was just sitting there, smiling and glistening with sweat, being all funny and handsome and

It wasn’t fair.

The waitress laughed at something, hand resting on Shiro’s shoulder as her nose twitched, and Lance decided he was going to be sick. ...actually. He was going to be _sick_. It hit him all at once, stomach lurching and the world sliding on it’s axis. He could taste something bitter, almost medicine-like, in the back of his suddenly convulsing and burning throat.

He stumbled to his feet, chair falling over behind him. Keith jumped then, groaning as if in pain, clutched his head. Lance managed to take two steps towards him and then he was falling, visioning darkening and tilting. He heard someone call his name but couldn’t do anything but fall.

He didn’t remember hitting the ground.

He did remember, sort of, being picked up and the world shaking and voices talking. The conversation went in and out, blended together and was hard to follow or make sense of. His head was pounding and his whole body felt warm.

“You sure about these two? They’re funny looking.” It sounded like the alien he’d mentally dubbed Pig-face #1 in the bar. He was, distantly, annoyed about being called ‘funny looking’. First Allura kept on about his ears and now this.

“The little ones should get a nice price if we can find a way to get the one to keep his mouth shut.”

“Might lose money that way.”  The first person laughed as they said the words. “The big one is pretty beat up. Scarred.”

A grunt of agreement and then Lance was plunged back into silence and darkness. The blackness was thick, seemed to be clinging to his body like tar and holding him in place, keeping him from being able to move and rendered him numb and deaf. When he came to again he was on something hard and chilly; he could feel it vibrating underneath him. There was shouting and shuffling, someone shouting for him to wake up and then a heavy thump near him.

“This big one is trouble, won’t stay down. Should we dose him again?”

“Do it. Double it this time.”

“That’s-”

“Do it. Worse comes to worse we cut off his hand and dump him. That hand is the prize.”

Back into the clinging darkness again but this time he felt a sense of urgency telling him to fight it, to pull himself together and do something. He was in trouble. Shiro was in trouble. He couldn’t just lie down and let whatever was happening happen. He needed to-

Lance groaned as he sat up; his head felt like it was jammed full of cotton balls, fuzzy and slow to pull itself together. His mouth tasted like something he didn’t even want to dwell on, sour and clinging to his tongue, and just sitting up made his head pound. His body was aching, muscles tight.

It took him a moment to realize he was sitting on the floor of a dimly let...cell, maybe? Yeah. There were bars a few feet around, thick ones so close together he doubted he could get more than his hand and wrist through. There was another cell across from him, separated by a thin walkway and he could see what looked like a door at the end of the walkway but nothing else. He couldn't see more than a foot or two into the other cell, the rest of it was shrouded in shadow. 

He reached down on instinct, first though to use his bayard to blast the bars away but found only air. He looked down, patting his pants frantically as his heart sank. The bayard was gone. The communicator Coran had made him take was gone and, in fact, pocket he’d had it clipped to had been torn off and his jeans were now sporting a considerable tear where the pocket had been. Even the ration bar he’d brought along just in case was gone.

That was...not a good sign.

He turned his head to look around the cell, wincing a little as pain jolted up his neck to the base of his skull, then stopped in surprise.

“Shiro?”

The older teen was back in the corner of the cell, tucked between the wall and metal cot, bar except for a thin looking blanket lying on it. Shiro was facing the wall, head down and curled in on himself. His shirt was shredded, barely enough of it there to hang to his trembling body.

He didn’t show any sign that he’d heard Lance, not even a twitch in his direction.

His feet carried him closer to Shiro before his brain could even make the decision to. He grabbed the threadbare blanket as he went by it then dropped to his knees behind Shiro. Lance would never claim to be the most sensitive guy in the world but he knew that after a year locked up by the Galra Shiro couldn’t have been happy to be repeating the experience. Shiro didn’t look like he was in a good way, which was understandable, but if they were going to get out of here he was going to need help.

And Shiro’s super badass hand.

Especially Shiro’s hand.

“Shiro?” He said again as he scooted a little closer. “You with me here? Because I really need you to be with me here.”

Nothing, though now he was close enough to see Shiro was sweating so hard it was dripping down his back in fat droplets and had soaked the scraps of his shirt still clinging to him. He could hear him breathing, strained and reedy. He let the blanket fall away; if Shiro was sweating like that it was probably a bad idea, right?

This was all bad. He didn’t know where they were, if they were even still on planet, he didn’t have a way to contact anyone and Shiro looked like he’d totally left the building. The latter was...he hadn’t known Shiro could freak out like that. He hadn’t known Shiro could freak out at all, honestly. Get a little testy and worried on occasion but the guy had ended up with a Galra witch rattling around in his brain and still managed to more or less walk away from it in order to save Keith’s dumb ass.

This was...Lance didn’t know what this was.

“Hey, I get that this is bad and you are losing it right now and I’m not blaming you but I really need your help here Shiro.”

“...leave. Me.” The words were halting and distant, as if coming from far away instead of a few inches from him. Lance didn’t focus on that though, far too happy to have Shiro actually speaking to him to dwell on it or the words he’d said.

He sighed in relief. “Okay, that’s good. Now, how about you punch a hole in the wall or something and we get out of here?”

“Lance!” Shiro ground out. “Leave!”

Lance frowned then shook his head. What was Shiro talking about? There was no way he could just leave him, even if he had a plan to get out on his own he wouldn’t leave Shiro behind. He was crazy to even suggest it.

“Shiro, we’re leaving together, so get the hell up.”

He touched the other Paladin’s shoulder lightly as he spoke, barely more than a brush of his fingertips. Shiro doubled over and screamed, entire body convulsing. The scream was strangled and thick with pain, seemed to be ripped right out of him; it made Lance’s blood run cold. He scarcely had time to pull his hand back when something hit him hard, drove all the air out of his lungs in one painful rush, and pushed him back. His head and back smacked against the hard floor and stinging pain spread over his skin. The world dimmed for a moment and when it came back into focus he pushed himself up some to find Shiro on his hands and knees, staring at him.

He looked...wrong. His eyes were dark, so dark they were like black holes and gave away nothing, and glassy. His lips were swollen, mouth slack to let out strained puffs of breath, and his hands were sliding over the floor, nails scraping against it. He seemed bigger somehow, broader and taller and...just bigger.

Shiro’s back bowed, his body stretched then shuddered against as a pained groan leaving his mouth. His Galra hand surged to life, casting strange twisting shadows around Shiro’s body with it’s purple glow. For one long heartstopping moment Lance stared, wide eyed and uncomprehending of what he was seeing. The shadows behind Shiro, all around him, seemed to be undulating, shifting and moving around like a pack of intertwined snakes. They were long, stretching in all directions, sliding against each other and spilling down to the floor to creep along it.

Towards him, actually. The shadows, which were all a strange bruised purple color, were slithering right for him.

Lance blinked rapidly in hopes it would clear his vision and make what he was seeing make sense.

Because shadows slipping across the floor towards him didn’t make sense.

Something brushed his leg. He jerked back with a (very manly) shriek and away or tried to at least. The shadow that couldn’t possibly be a shadow because shadows couldn’t touch people and didn’t move like that and what the fuck, wrapped around his ankle tightly and kept him from getting away. He yelped then reached for it, hands curving around the surface to try and pry it loose. It was hot and a little damp but didn’t feel any different from normal skin; it was also strong. He tried to get his fingers between it and his skin but found no space to work into. He dug his nails in, trying to find some purchase.

He saw a movement from the corner of his eye a second before another shadow-not shadow- darted out and attached itself to his wrist, wrapping tight. Another jumped out to grab his other arm and, with alarming strength, his hands were wrenched back and forced down to his sides. The one around his ankle pulled hard, no less strong than the others, and without his hands to catch him Lance found himself flat on his back. Again.

Another yank and his arms were pulled out and held fast, making it so he couldn’t even lift his shoulders. He struggled against it, tried to use his free leg for leverage, arched his back and twisted as he swore.

Shiro crept into his field of vision, peering down at him with eyes that seemed to have gained a sheen of purple. He cocked his head to the side, mouth pursing into an almost curious frown. Lance stopped moving and sucked in a breath, trying to command himself to calm down. This was Shiro after all. Shiro wasn’t going to hurt him.

...at least he didn’t think he was.

That said he didn’t look much like himself at the moment, what with the mass of ugly purple things swaying behind him and that strange expression on his face. And, on that note, where the hell were those things coming from? ...or maybe he didn’t want to know.

He exhaled. “Shiro, you need to let me up so we can figure out what’s wrong with you and get out of here.”

Shiro stayed silent and still, simply staring down at him him. His free leg was caught, wrapped up from ankle to knee. He grunted, trying to dig in his heel and keep his footing but  the tentacle pulled hard to force his leg straight then pinned it to the ground. He swore as he mentally retracted his thought about Shiro not hurting him.

For all he knew this wasn’t Shiro at all, though the Galra hand did strongly imply otherwise.

He could feel this latest tentacle throbbing against his leg as if in time to a heartbeat, moving higher and higher as it tightened its grip. Something, another tendril of shadow, slithered over his stomach then pushed under the hem of his shirt to press against his skin. He jumped then cringed as the slick appendage slithered over him, leaving trails of slick fluid that began to heat up once the tendril had moved on.

“Hey hey, no touching. Get out of there and take your tentacle juice with you!” He snapped as he tried to move his torso away from the searching apengadge. The tendril followed him, spreading more of the slippery wetness over his stomach.

What was going on? What the hell was Shiro trying to do to him?

Another tendril joined that one to crawl over his skin, snaking up his chest, and yet more began to climb over his legs and arms, worming into his sleeves and up his pants legs. These ones were thinner, no wider than his pinky, but were just as hot and wet as they wriggled over his skin. They didn’t feel smooth like the ones around his arms but sort of bumpy or maybe ridged, almost rough as they trailed over him. He grunted, toes curling in his shoes, as the one invading his pants crept higher and higher. The slick fluid they were leaving in their wake made his skin tingle, like sparks of electricity going off just beneath it.

The damp tentacles had reached his thighs, wedged in tight beneath the fabric of his jeans, and the feel of them wiggling against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs made him gasp. It was like being touched, or maybe licked, by a dozen tongues at once, each claiming a different patch of skin and squirming together. His cock jumped; he flushed as he realized his body was responding to the touching and that he was starting to get hard.

He pushed his thighs together, trying to force the tendrils out; this was very quickly getting way out of hand. Not that it had been in hand at any point but...more out of hand.

“Shiro!” He shouted, wrists straining against his bonds again. “Shiro! You need to stop and wake up or snap out it or something! This is...weird and creeping me out a lot.”

A lot.

Shiro touched his face with the Galra hand, forced him to turn to the side, then bent closer. Lance tried to shrink back but even that was impossible with Shiro holding his face. Lips, oddly cool and dry, touched his own, fit against them. He went still and his brain blanked out, unable to hold onto anything coherent besides ‘Shiro is kissing me!!!!’ His lips moved against Lance’s, slid over them then parted for his teeth to bite down on and tub at his lower lip

He let out a noise of surprise and Shiro’s teeth let up to allow his tongue entry into Lance’s mouth. His tongue licked between the seam of Lance’s lips, traced them before sliding in, bringing with it the lingering taste of that fruity drink they’d had in the bar. Shiro’s tongue flicked forward to glide against his own; Lance moaned into Shiro’s mouth.

Fingers, flesh and blood ones, drifted over his leg where his pocket used to be then hooked into the hole. He tried to turn to see what Shiro was doing as the sound of fabric tearing met his ears and air touched his bared skin. A moment later a tentacle was there, one of the thicker ones similar to what was keeping him pinned, sliding into the widened hole and dragging down, ripping his pants until the leg was completely open.

Then wriggling tendrils on his chest brushed over his nipples, leaving more of the tingle causing stuff over his skin, then curled around the hardening nubs. The thin tentacles constricted tightly then pulled. This time Lance bit his lip hard enough to tate iron to muffle the noise threatening to escape his mouth.

The tentacles in his pants, thin and wiggling, were still working over his thighs, painting them in the slippery fluid they were covered in. Everything was tingling, nerves sparking. The larger tendril that had torn his pants snaked its way back up and pushed up into his boxers. There was a tug and his underwear pulled tight, the waistband digging into his skin and then snapping as they tore. He yelped at the sting then tried to push his thighs even closer together. 

"What the fuck is going on?" 

Shiro pulled away from him, head swiveling towards the voice and all of the movement of his tentacles stopped; for a moment he wasn't sure if he glad or upset. His entire body was tensed up, lips still between his teeth, practically vibrating against his bonds. It was like hanging from the edge of a cliff and being unsure if help or a long fall were coming. Lance tilted his head back to look across the hallway into the other cell where a very bewildered (and upside down) Keith was slumped against the bars. His brows were furrowed and a hand was pressed to his head. There was a smudge under one of his eyes that looked like the beginnings of a nasty bruise. 

Lance had never been so glad to see Keith and his stupid ridiculous mullet. ...probably glad. He wasn't sure what he was, other than sort of mortified and freaked out, with Shiro's _tentacles_  unmoving against his skin. 

Keith's eyes narrowed. "What did you do to Shiro?"

Lance's mouth dropped open. What had he done? He was the one on the floor being molested, why was he assumed to be at fault here? As if Shiro was incapable of being the one to cause trouble...okay, actually, he could see where Keith was coming from here but still. The situation had to speak for itself.

Which is exactly what he would have told Keith if one of Shiro's tentacles, seemingly tired of the lull, hadn't crept up from somewhere to brush against the corner of his mouth. Lance shut his mouth so fast his teeth clinked together. Shiro turned away from Keith, the picture of disinterest. 

The small tentacles surged back to life, using their newfound access to his body to swarm him, moving the ruined fabric and then crawling over his crotch to twist around his dick. They wriggled together, little ridges breaking up the slick smoothness, stroking and squeezing.

Lance shut his eyes tight as one prodded at the head of his cock then poked at the slit. 

Bad day.

Worse day ever.

Fuck, that felt amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waggles eyebrows* 
> 
> Ahem, my amusement at this cliffhanger aside I might find myself inclined to, after Lance has been thoroughly wrecked, have Shiro find a way over to Keith's cell. Idk. *vauge hand gesture* We'll see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...porn.

Lance actually thought, in that first moment where he realized the other paladin was with them, that Keith being there would do something. He let himself imagine that Keith’s presence would somehow snap Shiro out of it (they were like, best friends right? So if anyone could talk shiro down it was Keith) or that Keith would get them out of the cell through the strength of his glare alone. That hope was dashed almost instantly.

Shiro leaned closer, lips quirking as Lance hissed through his teeth, tentacles fanning out and touching him all over as if there hadn't been any distraction at all. He seemed completely unmoved by Keith banging against the bars of his cell and shouting at them, increasingly panicked demands for Shiro to stop. Lance grunted then swore, body arching up as Shiro’s mouth, hot and wet, touched his stomach; first in an almost gentle kiss then to lick a path around his belly button. Hands were on his skin, cool against his rapidly overheating skin, added feather light, almost teasing, pressure in counterpoint to the tentacles on him.

Teeth nipped him, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make him twitch in surprise. Another nip, higher up on his torso, followed by a soothing lick and a blow of oddly cool breath against his skin made him gasp and his toes curl.

Keith got louder and Lance...really wanted him to shut up. It was pretty clear Keith was just as trapped as they were (well not as trapped as Lance but the sentiment counted) and wasn't going to be able to do anything about this, whatever this was.

Which meant he’d have to sit back and watch as Shiro...well, did whatever it was he was going to do. Lance had some ideas, had maybe seen some things on the internet he'd never be able to unsee, and he sure as fuck didn't want Keith to see anything like that happening to him. He wanted to tell him to stop watching, to just turn the fuck around and shut up, but a damp tentacle slithered over his mouth. He shut his mouth tight but before he did he tasted salt and bitterness.

His lips and tongue started to tingle.

Being silent suddenly seemed like a much better plan. Yelling at Keith wouldn't do any good anyway.

He was pretty sure that the only thing could have made the fact he was getting felt up by his teammate’s surprise tentacles worse was having someone else watch or listen and, lucky him, that was exactly what was happening. He almost wished Shiro was angry and trying to beat the shit out of him instead of, apparently, horny and wanting to having sex with him. At least if it was a fight Keith was watching Lance would have a little pride left when it was all said and done; there had been no shame in Shiro kicking his ass before he'd sprouted tentacles and there sure as hell wouldn't be any shame after.

But pinned to the ground with his cock being rubbed, body played with like a toy, and not quite able to keep from shaking and making _noise_ as it happened? Getting off on this, maybe sort of just flat out enjoying it, was embarrassing as fuck as it was but knowing someone else was watching just added another layer of shame to it.

In any other circumstances he would have jumped at the chance to have Shiro feel him up, even with weird alien tentacles because hey, the universe was a weird place and Lance did not discriminate thank you very much. But like this? This was about as far from the things he'd dreamed up while jerking off to thoughts of Shiro as he could get.

It didn’t even look like Shiro was ‘all there’ eyes foggy black holes that seemed to be looking right through Lance when he caught them for a second and, pinned to the ground or not, Lance felt...maybe a little guilty. Because he wasn’t being hurt and he didn’t hate it and if it was different and god, those tentacles were amazing.

Shiro started tugging at the tattered remains of his pants, hand and tentacles working to strip him further. Lance blinked blearily, face growing even warmer as the ruined fabric was moved down to bunch around his knee. A look down, past Shiro’s head, showed him what he already knew he'd find: bruise purple tendrils, some pinky thin and others two or three fingers thick, crawling over his skin, wrapping him up. The ones around his cock were the thinner ones and, as he watched, more and more crept over his body to wrap around him there until only the head, already flushed a deep red, was visible. One tentacle was still brushing over the head; he could feel it pulsing as it stroked over the slit then dipped the thin tip inside-

“Fuck!” He blurted the word out, heard it dissolve into a shuddering moan as his hips thrust up into the touch then tried to shrink back. Another pass, slow and lingering, left enough of that viscous fluid dripping over the head of his cock that he could feel it dripping down. The tingling heat seemed to get stronger and, as the tentacles twisted and worked at him, magnify the sensation, clouded his head.

Another slow near-lick over the tip of his dick then down to press against the sensitive spot under the head, all while the others continued to squeeze and stimulate the shaft. He jerked against his bonds, less to get away and more on reflex as his muscles tightened, and panted weakly.

Keith was silent for a moment, the only sound him inhaling sharply and then he was shouting again. Lance could hear bars rattling, no doubt under the force of Keith hitting or kicking them, but it was hard to really concentrate on anything but the arousal and embarrassment getting all twisted up inside of him.

Lance wasn't sure what was worse about the situation: that this was probably the closest he was ever going to get to being with Shiro and that is was so messed up, that Shiro’s little tentacles really felt good as they stroked and crawled over him, or that Keith was watching. ...But he was leaning heavily towards Keith watching, which was messed up in and of itself. His priorities weren't in order and he could acknowledge that but he also really wanted Keith to not be able to watch the way his back arched when Shiro’s tentacles tugged at his nipples and the older Paladin’s fingers drifted down to cup his balls. He didn't want Keith to see him reduced to blushing and tight lipped panting as those tiny tentacles twisted around his dick.

The sensation was indescribable, even remotely similar to touching himself or even having someone else touch him (which, admittedly, had happened all of twice in his life so his knowledge base was small), but instead was constant movement in all directions. The surfaces of the tentacles were smooth and wet, not just damp anymore but starting to drip with that slick fluid, the ridges rubbing back and forth and seeming to concentrate along the underside, catching where he was most sensitive. They overlapped, moved over each other, a dozen or more damp tendrils slithering over him; it was like nothing he’d ever felt before but almost a tease at the same time, not quite enough pressure to really get him off. They squeezed sometimes, coiled tighter, and his body jerked, hips trying to push deeper into the touch.

The thin tentacles stroking his legs and hips were still at it, thin tongues licking over sensitive skin, painting him with more of that goo, making him feel like there was fire burning under his skin.

It felt too good, so many individual caresses over his skin, squirming over and squeezing his cock, slithering over his chest while tightening around his nipples to pinch and tug. Shiro’s hand was at work too, stroking his balls and his mouth was pressing sucking kisses on Lance's torso, lazily moving further up.

Fuck that was so. So.

Good.

Embarrassing. Awful. Amazing. So much all at once that is was almost impossible to track what was happening where. It blended, so many touches in too many places, tingling and burning and squirming spreading over his body, like he was being consumed by it, drowning in too much stimulation.

His shirt was pushed up higher until it was bunched up under his neck and armpits. Shiro’s tongue lapped over his left nipple then teeth bit in as the tendril around it tightened again. His head fell back, cracking against the floor hard enough to make pain crawl over his scalp and make his vision fuzz around the edges.

Or maybe that had already been happening.

A thumb stroked at the sensitive skin behind his balls then pressed firmly as it rubbed a small tight circle there, sending sparks of electricity through his blood. A tentacle brushed his asshole, leaving a trail of warm liquid around the rim, Shiro’s tongue and mouth sealed around his nipple and the tendril toying with the head of his cock poked into the slit again, wriggled and-

His vision went dark as he came with a wordless shout, body stiff. It nearly hurt it was so intense and even his hearing dimmed; all he could hear was blood rushing in his hears and the thudding of his own heart. The tentacles were still moving, milking him dry and then past that, keeping him from coming back down and instead dragging him higher. He was getting hard again or maybe hadn’t been not hard, shaking down to his bones as his nails scrambled against the metal floor.

He gasped Shiro’s name, trembled when the other paladin’s mouth touched his throat. He licked and sucked what would probably be obvious bruises along his neck and up to behind his ear. Lance felt strange, entirely too worked up, so turned on, burning up inside and out. His heart was racing and his mouth was desert dry, tongue thick and unwieldy, sticking to the top of his mouth.  

More tentacles slunk up to wriggle over his ass and entrance, slipping over each other as they pushed and ‘licked’ at the ring of muscle. Shiro’s hand trailed back up his body, thumb rubbing though the cum and...tentacle goop wetting the tip of his dick, and the tendrils around it constricted, rotating around and up and down and god this was going to ruin him for his hand. The tentacles against his asshole tickled, warm and slick against his body, but in a way that made his stomach twist itself into knots of what was either nervousness or anticipation or maybe some unholy mixture of both because he clearly had some issues he needed to work out.

Later.

At the moment he was more concerned with how the tips of the tendrils, one or two or...he wasn’t sure, were teasingly dipping into his hole. He breathed in, held it, closed his eyes when a tentacle pushed, sliding in the barest amount, pulled away, then was back with a more insistent press. It was wet and slippery and, as it pressed inside of him past the ring of muscle, Lance felt more slick warmth oozing into his body.

So.

This was really how his day was going. Fucked by tentacles.

He was not as bothered as he should have been. Maybe all the heat had caused his brain to melt inside of his skull.

His head was swimming, eyes watering as the sensations continued to crash into him, racking his body. He couldn’t catch his breath, was panting open mouthed and desperate, a lump in his throat keeping him from getting any words out. He wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway, or if he wanted to say anything at all.

He felt strange, entirely too turned on and warm, inside and out, heart racing and mouth dry. He couldn’t get a handle on things, entire world blocked out except for Shiro’s touch all over him. His nails scraped over the ground, scrambled over the metal uselessly.

The tentacle slipped out again and when it came back it wasn’t alone, another one pushing in along side the first. They pushed in together, wiggling against his walls as they spread apart. Another dipped in, just far enough to push against his rim and then another and- The first two were slithering in deep, curling and coiling, while others, he resolved to not count them, fucked in and out of him shallowly, working him open.

Oh

Oh fucking-

His mouth dropped open when tentacles found his prostate. He made a noise he would have, if he’d been listening to himself, been ashamed of.

And then something slithered into his mouth, muffling his voice,  in far enough to touch the back of his tongue before he realized it was happening. It was heavy and thick, bumped against his teeth as it stretched his mouth wider.

His eyes snapped open, a wild thought of biting down slipping in and falling into the fog that was taking over his thoughts, and he grunted in surprise. It tasted like skin, salt and a hint of bitter, then as he twisted his head around and pushed his tongue up to force the tentacle away something thick spurted out. He gagged as the warm liquid spread over and clung to his tongue and again as the tentacle pressed in, slid over his tongue as it shoved deeper. It tickled the back of his throat and he swallowed on reflex. It was warm on the way down and the feeling spread through his stomach, like drinking alcohol.

But less disgusting tasting.

Which was funny because there was a tentacle fucking his mouth, sliding in and out slowly, and oozing stuff into it. The way he felt was a little like being drunk, actually, but with a bunch of horny on top of it. Warm and sweating and light headed and hard and wanting even though he knew he really shouldn’t be wanting. He just...couldn’t remember how to not want more of what was happening.

There was another burst of liquid, dripping down his throat, and he swallowed around that as well. He moved his tongue along the length of tentacle in his mouth, marveling at a row bumps along the underside, hard and rounded as they shifted under the surface. Spit was pooling in his mouth, slipping out from between his lips with a wet squelch as the tentacle was fed into his mouth and throat. He gagged around it, felt his throat convulsing and trying to close up, and then it was pulling out. He coughed, spit and something that wasn’t spit trailing down his chin and cheek.

Shiro was breathing hard against his ear, breath hot and damp. His hand was working with the tentacles on his dick, fitting in between them to stroke up and squeeze with smooth metal fingers.

More tentacles had worked their way deeper into him, twisting together then spreading apart as they moved in and out of him, none of them using the same rhythm. His prostate was pressed against, massaged and stroked at random intervals, tips of the tendrils stroking up and down over twitching muscle, setting his nerves on fire. His hips pushed up without his say so; his eyes were watering again. He’d never been stretched open like this, would have expected it to be uncomfortable or painful, but he couldn’t feel any of that. Just fullness, a stretch inside, and so many tentacles slithering inside of him.

The tentacles holding his legs pulled them further apart, spreading him wider.

The tentacle pushed at his lips and Lance opened wider for it to sink back in, sucking and moving his tongue as it fucked his mouth. It picked up a steady rhythm, gliding over his tongue and into his throat then back out to let air into his lungs, never quite leaving his mouth before plunging forward again. He gagged and choked, had never done anything even remotely like this before, and just keeping his mouth open as his throat was battered. But he didn’t hate it, didn’t stop sucking when he was able or try to get away.

The tentacles on his cock and in his ass picked up their pace, Shiro’s hand was slick and tight around him as he pushed up into it desperately. He moaned around the tentacle, heard how muffled and wet the sound was, pleasure curling in his stomach and blinked tears from his eyes. He felt the edge of another orgasm, right there and just out of reach, rippling under his skin.

One of the thin tentacles inside of him pushed hard on his prostate, too much and not enough all at once, made him jerk and cry out.

He came hard, cum spurting out to cover Shiro’s hand, the tentacles, and his aching cock. He clenched down around the tentacles inside of him, gasped brokenly as they continued to twitch and writhe, not letting up at all. The other touches didn’t stop either, he was stroked and jerked through his orgasm. Tears burned his eyes, suddenly too sensitive and an ache blooming low in his gut and in his balls and he groaned desperately around the tentacle in his mouth. His vision darkened as his hands clenched at his side.

Again there was no chance to breath, to relax, as mixed pleasure-pain swept over him.

The tentacles inside of him stopped moving all at once. He blinked wetly as they slithered out of him drove him to whimper, not sure if it was in relief or disappointment. Some didn’t withdraw completely and, instead, hooked into the sensitive muscle just inside of him, pulling as if to hold him open.

He wasn’t surprised when another tentacle, much bigger than even the small ones combined had felt, slide over his entrance, up the crack of his ass and then back down to press into him. He moaned, back arching off of the floor as the tentacle, wide and hot, pushed in past where the little ones were spreading and holding his rim. It was thick, so thick and hot and solid, and Lance felt his body stretching to accommodate it. There was a faint burn, a whisper of pain, but Shiro was crooning sweetly in his ear, a sound more animal than human, petting his chest with his unoccupied hand, and it was more soothing than it had any right to be.

It sank in deeper and deeper, kept going, stretched his over sensitive body to what felt like capacity, so full. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stand it, just having the tentacle inside of him, feeling it throbbing inside of him and wriggling around, was making him dizzy. His head went back again, hit the floor, and the tentacle in his mouth followed, slithered down his throat greedily.

The tentacle in his ass started moving, dragging out as he coughed and sputtered then moaned. The tentacle curved, found just the right angle to nail his prostate again and again as it pounded into him. It wasn’t gentle or careful, at all, but hard and fast, matching the pace of the one in his mouth; they moved together, filling him to the brim, until he was sure there was no more room, that he was going to be torn apart in the best possible way.

The tentacles around his dick squeezed tight; he sobbed, body going rigid, and thrashed, hips stuttering up and then pushing down on the tentacle inside of him, moving and seeking more even as his eyes rolled back from too much stimulation. He felt on edge, suspended between the sensations; tentacle squirming in his mouth and throat, fucking him, stroking his dick, holding him tightly in place, and roaming his body.

He was lost to it all, couldn’t think or process, felt like he was stretched and floating or maybe falling apart and spirling. He was limp against the floor, mouth open and slack as the tentacle drove in again and again.

The one on his tongue pulsed, jerked up, and then thick warmth was pouring down his throat, filling his mouth. Shiro breathed out against his ear, hard and panting, rumbled out a strangled noise. He swallowed and, when he couldn’t anymore, choked, tongue curling and pushing. The tentacle slid from his mouth with a wet pop and he turned his head to the side to weakly cough up what he couldn’t get down. His throat felt raw, the echo of the tentacle still shaping his mouth, the taste still lingering on his tongue.

The tentacle still inside of him moved in earnest, hot and stretching him wide, slick and smooth and rippling as it undulated inside of him. He moaned wetly, uncaring about what a mess he must have been, tentacle cum on his mouth and face, his own splattered across his lower body, that slick fluid squishing out of him as the tentacle in his ass fucked into him again and again, grinding into the most sensitive spots inside of him.

It hurt so good.

He was dying. He was going. To. Die.  

There wasn’t much time to dwell on it because another tentacle pushed into his mouth, muffling the soft noises he hadn’t realized he was making. It dove in, forced its way far back, eager to use his mouth again. He didn’t fight it, just stretched his sore jaw wider, and let his eyes drift shut again. Lips brushed his ear, nipped at the lobe and up to the shell.  

The tentacle fucking him came shortly after, spilling hot inside of him. It felt like a lot, sticky pulse after sticky pulse spraying against his twitching muscles as the tentacle spasmed, slowing down but not stopping even as it filled him. When it slipped free Lance felt cum run out after it, clenched around air at the sudden stretched and empty feeling.

He almost expected it when another tentacle wiggled into place, gliding through the mess inside of him, forcing it in deeper. It was strange, felt filthy and wet and weird, and he could hear lewd noises as it moved inside of him. The noise mingled with the slurping sounds the tentacle in his mouth dragged out of him and Shiro’s strained panting and growling in his ear.

It was the same feeling of being on the edge of something, falling and drowning and spiraling out, thought he was going to break, was sure of it and

Shiro grunted when the tentacle in Lance’s mouth came, spraying across his tongue, lips, and over his cheek in strong pulses.

Shiro wasn’t done after that, though his mouth was left free, fucked him until he was out of his head, clawing at the ground. He was sweaty and trembling, so sensitive to every touch, whimpering low in his throat, everything was burning and raw, his whole body an exposed nerve. He was drooling, knew he was a mess, making soft desperate noises.

He came without realizing it was close to happening, orgasm crashing into him just when he was sure it couldn't possibly happen again cock twitching but only a thin squirt dribbling out. He whimpered and arched then collapsed, boneless and spent. The tentacles moving over him still felt good but it was distant, muffled, and he knew he was done. ...was pretty sure he was done.

Might have been dead.

He felt dead.

He barely registered when the tentacle inside of him slipped free or the splash of hot cum on his skin. He was gone, barely awake or aware even though he was fighting to stay that way, drifting off against his will. Something fell over him, rough and warm. There was shuffling and a high pitched hissing sound and then everything was very quiet.

The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him up was Keith, firm and urgent. “I’m not going to fight you.”

\---

Keith stepped away from the bars of his cell. Shiro was in the hallway, watching him with blown wide eyes, hand glowing as he melted though the lock on the door. He'd done the same to the door of the cell he and Lance had been in then strode across the hall, much to Keith's...well, he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact he was now the center of Shiro's attention. Lance was on the floor, a threadbare blanket thrown over him, and looked like he'd passed out. Not that Keith could blame him after what he'd witnessed. 

What he probably shouldn't have watched. At first it had been out of concern for Shiro and Lance, then just for Lance, and then because he could bring himself to look away. There was a shameful twisting in his chest and heat pooling low in his gut. 

He looked past Shiro, gaze flicking over to the door at the end of the hall. Where the hell were the jerks who'd kidnapped them? Were they watching? ...fuck, he hoped they weren't watching. 

The door to his cell creaked open. Keith inhaled then exhaled before meeting Shiro's eyes. He didn't know if their leader was in there or close enough to the surface to hear him, and wasn't sure if he wanted him to be. Maybe the less aware Shiro was the better things would be in the long run because...he was going to hate himself. 

He thought maybe he would have had a shot at fighting Shiro off; he knew him, knew how he fought, and wouldn't be taken by surprise like he assumed Lance had been. That he might have a shot was why he had no plans of fighting. He also knew the situation was bad enough as it was, that Shiro was going to be beating himself up as it was, and that adding a fight where he might end up hurting Keith wouldn't help matters. 

He put his hands up, palms flat and facing Shiro. "I'm not going to fight you." 

Shiro's head tilted to the side and, for one hopeful moment, Keith thought he'd gotten through. Then Shiro moved, got into his space to put a hand on his chest and pushed him back against the wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Shiro/Keith chapter? Yes?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Diary: Today I learned I don't have a gag reflex  
> ~Keith

Shiro’s tentacles were surprisingly nimble. Keith should have expected it, he'd watch the writhing tendrils snake their way into Lance’s clothes, and into Lance, with no great difficulty so why would his clothes be any different? They came off quickly and not entirely whole, pulled and torn from his body. In the case of his jeans he helped push them down his hips and legs, face burning with embarrassment the entire time, because he was going to need something to wear out of this place. He wasn't wearing anything underneath so once his pants were gone and his shirts tattered he was naked and standing in front of his friend turned tentacle monster.

The tentacles had only just barely touched him while undressing him, light almost fleeting brushes over his skin that had left thin trails of something slick and warm behind. But, with him totally bare and shivering from the chill of the cell wall against his back, that changed. Thick tentacles coiled around his wrists and forearms, yanked hard until his arms were stretched above his head. He was forced up onto his toes to accommodate the stretch. His wrists were brought together and wrapped up by the same tentacle before being pinned to the wall; he could feel the power in the dark purple tendrils and let himself reconsider his earlier thought that he might have had a fighting chance.

He totally dismissed the notion when his arms were pulled again, hard enough to take him right off of his feet while he yelped in shock. He hung there a second, toes hovering centimeters from the floor and then he was lifted higher. His body slid along the wall, heels trying to dig in but finding no give in the smooth surface, until he was a good three feet from the floor and his fingertips here able to touch the ceiling.

His arms started to throb right away under the strain of dangling from them but a glance down found Shiro looked as if holding him was taking no effort at all.

It was better that, knowing right away that nothing good would come of it, he'd chosen not to try and fight Shiro. For one it was pretty clear he’d misjudged just how strong the tentacles were, after all keeping Lance pinned didn't take that much effort, but it was also smarter. Giving in meant he could keep them both more or less unharmed (not that Shiro seemed to have harmed physically Lance any, unless fucking him literally unconscious counted.) and safe and reduce whatever fallout was going to follow.

If Shiro was in there and aware then having to wrestle Keith to the ground, tearing his clothes while he fought and clawed, holding him down, potentially hurting him...those weren't things Keith wanted him to live with. That left two options, one being get Shiro to snap out of his daze and that seemed pretty fucking unlikely, and the other being to just go along with it.

Semi-consensual sex with tentacles was not something he'd ever pictured himself doing but the alternatives weren't all that great.

Keith was, contrary to what the rest of the team might have assumed, capable of knowing when he was really and truly screwed. He knew when not to fight, when to back down, when it was time to throw up his hands and let whatever was going to happen happen. He could go into situations and not fly off the handle.

It was just that most of the time he genuinely believed he could fight his way out.

This was not one of those times. This was one of the ‘absolutely fucked’ times. Literally, actually, and if Lance hadn't been out cold he probably would have found that funny. Keith found it...not funny at all.

More tentacles snaked forward, this time to wrap their damp lengths around his thighs and calves. The tentacles were smooth and hot against his skin and he could feel muscle tensing and flexing as his legs were drawn up until his legs were bent, knees were almost level with his hips, and then eased almost uncomfortably far apart.

The upside was that being supported like that took a lot of the weight off of his arms and that not being stretched out let him sag in his bonds some. The downside was that it felt strange to be, essentially, suspended from the ceiling and it put all of his...bits on display to Shiro, who was about eye level with his crotch now.

Not that he'd been able to hide it before but somehow having his half-hard dick mere inches from Shiro’s face, so close he could feel his breath, was worse than just being naked.

At least no one else could see that he'd started getting hard while having his clothes torn off. ...except their captors who were probably watching from somewhere and jerking off and oh that was a mouth, Shiro’s mouth, on his cock and Shiro’s hands on his inner thighs and that was him, making that sound like a chicken being strangled.

Shiro had taken him into his mouth, swallowed him down in one go, and the shock of tight wet heat was enough to make Keith forget himself and cry out, eyes widening. Hands grasped his thighs, just above where the thicker tentacles were coiled around him, preventing him from moving even a little. He tried, squirming and pulling at his bonds and nearly choking on his own spit, as Shiro’s tongue curled along the underside of his cock, pressing along the vein there as he slurped his way up. Shiro’s licked over the head, drool dripping from his mouth, then mouthed along the shaft wetly.

He looked down at Shiro, heart stuttering at the sight of full lips, wet with spit, sliding along his cock, parted wide as filthy slurping noises filled the air. The tentacles were a dark mass that framed Shiro’s body from behind, writhing together and spilling over his shoulders; it looked like he was wearing a curtain of living shadow.

His eyes flicked up to meet Keith’s, seeming to take on a purple sheen when the light hit them. They were dark and hungry, taking Keith in as if he were a delicious meal and Shiro hadn’t eaten in days. He looked away, shuddering under the intensity of that look and the feeling of his cock sliding between Shiro’s lips into the hot cavern of his mouth again.

He'd been ready, he'd thought, for tentacles to cover him up and fuck him like he'd witnessed happen to Lance. He'd accepted it, steeled himself against the curl of panic that idea brought (the fact watching had sort of turned him on helped and that was something going firmly in the 'never speak of out loud' pile). He had not expected this.

Purple tendrils, much thinner than the ones holding him up surged forward and pressed their wet surfaces to his skin. They moved without hesitation, fanning out over his body in all directions, squirming like snakes. The fluid the tendrils were smearing on him, slippery but thick enough to cling to his skin, grew hot and tingled and made every undulating tentacle feel like more than it was. It felt like dozens, hundreds, of fingers or maybe tongues or...he didn't know, were crawling over him at once. They were firm, some smooth and some with bumps or ridges, all different sizes and moving with no particular rhythm, impossible to track or predict.

They touched his chest, his stomach, his legs, climbed over his ass and wiggled into the crack, wet and squirming as others crept over his balls and wrapped around the parts of his dick Shiro couldn’t get in. No part of him was safe from their explorations, he swore they were everywhere on him. Shiro was sucking him harder, bobbing up and down on his dick and humming softly while scraping his nails over the skin of his inner thigh. Tendrils curled around his nipples and shocks of almost pain cut through him when they tightened into a hard pinch. It dissolved into something else, rolling up into the heat simmering under his skin.

It went from sort of disgusting to shockingly good to 'too much too fast' rapidly; his skin was suddenly sensitive, every touch against it sending ripples through his body. Shiro swallowed around him, mouth and throat tightening around his cock; it was pressure and heat, working with the tentacles to send him hurtling towards the edge shamefully fast. He was panting and shaking, hands curled into such tight fists that his nails were digging into his palms, threatening to split the skin open.

He could understand now why Lance had been shouting and begging while Shiro had been touching him (Beyond the obvious 'Lance is a pervert who everyone knows has a thing for Shiro' factor.) He'd thought he'd be trying to get through it as quickly as possible, that this would just be something he had to endure for everyone’s sake, not that he'd be all of five minutes in and trying to thrust deeper into Shiro’s mouth.

Shame was heavy in his stomach but it did nothing to beat back the heat building inside of him or the orgasm he could feel the edge of. It was impossible to not just tumble into it and let his body be taken over by the heat and the tentacles. More of them coiled around his dick, twisting and squeezing as they slid up and down around what wasn’t in Shiro’s mouth, left no part of him untouched.

Another tentacle slithered around his neck, curled loosely, then snaked higher to press against his cheek, leaving a trail of wetness in it's wake. The tip of it pressed against his mouth, smeared fluid over his lips. Keith cracked open his eyes, tingling lips pressing into a thin line as he took in the fleshy appendage. It was an ugly almost bruised purple color, seemed to be smooth all over, and while not nearly as thick around as the ones holding his legs and arms it wasn’t exactly small either. The tip was rounded and wet with a thick clear fluid oozing from a slit in the center.

It nudged his lips again, making its intentions very clear. Keith swallowed, then hesitantly stuck his tongue out to press against the tentacles surface. He licked the tentacle in one broad stroke, wincing as the stuff leaking from it coated his tongue. It wasn’t, he realized as the taste hit him, all that bad. Salty, mostly, and maybe a little sweet under that. It burned his throat on the way down and then that burn spread through him.

One of the tentacles playing with his ass, slipping around and in the crack, brushing over his hole, pushed inside. He yelped then stiffened in surprise; he’d known it was coming and yet he was still startled by the intrusion. It felt...strange, though not necessarily bad, and once he’d managed to relax the slide in and out was easy. He could feel the tendril oozing into him, coating his insides with it’s slick goo.

He tried to focus on the tentacle against his mouth, licked and mouthed at the tip but it was hard with the tentacle sliding around inside of him and became that much harder when a second pushed into join it. His cock was throbbing, contact against his prostate making him jerk and moan. His thoughts were crashing together, everything he’d been worried about falling away under waves of pleasure. He was close, really close, and when he looked down at Shiro’s mouth stretched wide and his cock sliding in and out it was almost his undoing.

The tentacle pushed against his tongue and he opened his mouth up while pushing it down flat. The tentacle didn’t hesitate to invade, feeding itself past his lips and forcing him to open up even wider as it stuffed his mouth full. It glided over his tongue and he could feel that it wasn’t as smooth as he’d thought, ridges catching on his tongue, and more fluid dribbled into his mouth. Keith grunted weakly when it hit the back of his throat and tried to swallow around it, to stop the saliva he could feel gathering in his mouth from choking him. It pushed in deeper, filled his throat. He forced back the urge to gag and swallowed again.

The tentacle in his mouth was shaping it, shaping his throat, around it. He sucked in air when it pulled back, huffed out air through his nose when it plunged in, spit forced out to drip down his chin. He’d never given a blowjob, let alone to a tentacle almost as thick as his wrist, and he couldn’t do much except keep himself from choking but it didn’t seem to matter much. Shiro was making noise around his dick, drooling and moaning loudly, and the tentacle was fucking his mouth faster, dripping more fluid down the back of his throat.

A third tentacle followed the first two, twisting this way and that, sliding in as the others dragged out. They spiraled together, folding and stretching him open, the tips dripping wet as they glided against his walls. A fourth and he was panting around the tentacle in his mouth, straining up and losing control. The way they were working to stretch him open burned some but mostly it was really fucking good, too good, as they kept pressing deeper and deeper, moved in him faster and harder, kept pressure on his prostate. Shiro’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked harder and the tentacles around the base of his cock pulled tight.

The tension in him snapped and he came with a muffled shout, back bowing as he tried to curl in on himself. Hazy purple eyes blinked up at him as he spilled into Shiro’s mouth. The tentacles continued to fuck into him, another finding its way into him, and Shiro swallowed it all down, not stopping until Keith was milked dry and hanging slack from his bonds. He whimpered, the continued stimulation to his cock and inside of him making his stomach clench tightly. When Shiro slide off of his cock it was with a wet pop and a rush of spit, long trails of it connecting his mouth to Keith’s body. He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then reached for his belt buckle.

The tentacles around his dick hurried to corkscrew up, replacing Shiro’s mouth with their wriggling forms, not giving him even a moment of relief. Keith tried to cry out but it came out as little more than a gurgle.  

Shiro pushed his pants down some then slipped his hand inside to pull his cock out. Keith’s eyes were watering, made everything blurry, but he could still see very clearly that Shiro’s dick was...actually another tentacle. A deeper purple than that rest and less squirmy, perhaps, but nonetheless it was a tentacle surrounded by dark wiry curls. He was alarmed in a distant way, not able to grasp the feeling enough to drag it past the surge of heat that was flaring back up.  

It curled some in Shiro’s grip, seemed to chase his hand as he stroked it. A fat bead of pre-cum appeared at the tip and was caught by Shiro’s thumb to be dragged down the surface. The older man stepped closer, stood flush against him body. The tentacles holding him shifted, let him slide down the wall a few inches, until he felt the blunt tip of Shiro’s cock against him. The thinner tentacles slipped free, left him open and dripping but only for a moment.

Shiro’s dick- tentacle?- filled him with slow steady thrusts, deeper each time until their bodies met. Keith shut his eyes tight; Shiro was blazing hot inside of him, tentacle wiggling so deep inside, stretching him wide. It was bumpy, like the one in his mouth, and Keith could feel every single one of them, catching on his rim on the drags out, forcing him wider around them on the push in. They pushed against his prostate as Shiro fucked into him, made him see stars on the back of his eyelids.

Shiro kept a slow pace, pulling out until only the very tip of his cock remained and then entering him slowly, letting him feel every inch, every movement, pushing into him. His toes curled around air, breath driven from his lungs, and fire jumped up his spine. He was a live wire, shaking and trembling as electricity arced through his body, lightheaded and burning up. The tentacles around his cock tightened, stroked him back to hardness as the tentacles around his balls stroked and pulled gently. There was a dull pain low in his gut but it was nothing compared to everything else.  

His mouth was being pounded into, a contrast to the slow and steady way Shiro was fucking him. Fluid was dribbling out of the tentacle in a steady stream now, flooding his mouth with salty sweetness. He swallowed what he could but most of it ran free. Shiro was breathing hard, hot air puffing across Keith’s cheek and his Galra hand slammed into the wall next to his head, made the entire wall shake. A tremble went through the other’s body.

The tentacle in his mouth swelled, cut off his air and choked him as cum poured down his throat in sticky pulses. He gagged and coughed; it slid free and the cum in his mouth bubbled out as the tentacle shot more across his face. He gasped, tried to suck air into his burning lungs, but Shiro dove in, sealed their mouths together and licked into his mouth. It was messy, cum and spit swapped between them as their tongues moved together.

He couldn’t breathe and didn’t care, craned his neck to deepen the kiss and and drink in more of Shiro, was willing to suffocate. Shiro rumbled out a growl, bit down on his bottom lip and drove into him harder. Keith couldn’t hold back a shuddering moan but it was lost in Shiro’s mouth and the sound of skin slapping against skin.  

He wanted to push into it, to demand more, to wrap his legs around Shiro and pull him closer but he had no words for the simmering need that had taken hold of him and the tentacles holding him up just gripped him harder. Shiro’s hips worked and the tentacle slithered out and then back in with hard thrusts that pushed him against the wall. He felt each impact through his entire body, sending crawling pain up his back.

He tried to move some, swiveled his hips to try and grind himself closer Shiro was all the way inside of him, moaned openly as the motion rubbed the tentacle harder against twitching muscle. He tightened around Shiro’s cock, ground down to meet his thrusts, felt himself tumbling closer to the edge. The other tentacles were still climbing all over him, slithering and pinching and pulling, like being touched by a dozen hands. It was good, better than he had thought anything could feel and he wanted-need-Shiro-fuck-

What?

He wrenched back, ending the kiss at the feeling of something, the tip of another thick tentacle, trying to wriggle in alongside Shiro’s cock. Shiro leaned into him, a hand on his hip shifted their positioning slightly and his legs were guided further apart, spreading him wider. It happened fast, there was barely time to process what was happening and then he was shouting, nails scrambling over Shiro’s skin as the second tentacle breached him.

“Sh-Shiro! I don’t-Ah!” His head fell forward, forehead colliding with Shiro’s. His mouth was claimed again, Shiro swallowing all the noises he couldn’t hope to hold back.

It was too much, he was splitting apart, being filled far past what he could handle and still the second tentacle continued to slide into him. Deeper in him, scorching his insides as his body stretched painfully wide to accommodate the new intrusion. It was big, hard and thick and there wasn’t enough space, he couldn’t take anymore, but it just kept going, filling him capacity and then more.

He could feel everything. The throbbing inside of them, hard flesh curling and bending to mold to his body, the tingling warmth and filthy wet slide. The tentacles moved opposite of each other, Shiro pushing in as the other pulled out then reversing, twisting and squirming all the while. It ached and burned but, under that...god. His eyes rolled back and he clutched at Shiro’s body, clawed at him wildly.

Fuck, it still felt good. Intense, choking him, ruining him, setting nerve endings on fire, turning him to ashes, so good.

How did it still feel good?

What was Shiro doing to him?

He heard himself crying out, desperate keening noises tearing his throat raw, but it felt like it was from far away. Everything zeroed down to Shiro’s body pressed against his and the tentacles inside of him, tearing him apart, breaking him.

He came hard, screaming Shiro’s name and sobbing. His whole body spasmed, convulsed against Shiro. Both tentacles continued to move in him, not letting him start to come down and instead pushing him higher. Shiro made a low punched out noise against his lips and sticky warmth flooded his body, filled him further, dragged a strangled noise from him.

And then nothing.

\---

When the world came back Keith was cold and stumbling forward, legs too weak to keep him standing. They crumpled and the world blurred around him as he fell towards the floor.

“Whoa!” A hand grabbed his arm and a hard yank sent him to the side and into someone’s arms. He tilted his head, blinked dazedly. It took a second for his brain to catch him and for understanding to set in. This wasn’t the cell, it was the castle and he had just dropped out of one of the cryopods. And that was Hunk holding him up.

He straightened up, pushing Hunk away. He swayed but managed to catch the edge of a control panel to stay on his feet. Hunk stepped towards him but didn’t try to touch him; he was frowning and his eyes were dark with some emotion Keith couldn’t read. It was an expression he’d never seen on the other paladin before.

“You okay?”

Was he okay? That was a...he didn’t even want to think about trying to answer that. Not until he’d had a chance to sort everything out. He looked around the room anxiously, noted Lance in one of the other pods, then focused on Hunk again. “What happened? Where’s Shiro?”

“Oh.” Hunk’s eyes darted to the side. “Shiro didn’t...come back with us? He uh...said it was too dangerous and we had to get you two back so we had to...leave him. Back on planet? We know where he is, and everything, but he isn’t responding anymore and...uh.”

Keith stared. He heard the words but they didn’t make any sense. “What?” Hunk’s wince told him everything. He pushed away from the panel, cursing his shaking legs and headed for the door. Stupid fucking Shiro, what was he doing? Stupid stupid

The door slid open before he got to it to reveal Allura, dark smudges under bloodshot eyes. She stopped in her tracks, eyebrows going up in surprise.

“Keith. You’re up and moving already? Do you not...want to sit and rest perhaps? Or talk?” Her tone was strange, pitched low like a person speaking to a wild animal would use. She touched his arm gently and her lips pursed into a sympathetic frown.

He squinted at her then looked over his shoulder at Hunk to find the other paladin staring at the floor very hard, refusing to look up. His hands were shaking at his sides.

They knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *innocent whistling* Everyone is satisfied now, yes?
> 
>  
> 
> What. The. Fuck. Spacing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Control](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788508) by [RisingQueen2 (FallenQueen2)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenQueen2/pseuds/RisingQueen2)




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